


Liability

by poemygod



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Young Avengers (Comics)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, F/M, Gen, Slow Burn, Some Humor, Tags Are Hard, Tags May Change, Tragedy, timelines suck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 18:10:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15612024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poemygod/pseuds/poemygod
Summary: Kate Bishop is allergic to feelings. Which is why when Bucky Barnes walks into her life, she's not sure what to do about his stupid attractive face or all the trouble that follows the both of them around.The adventures of a bored heiress and an ex-soviet assassin._________





	Liability

**Author's Note:**

> Timelines are a thing that exist, but I'm ignoring a lot of them. Huge mix of MCU and 616 comic timelines.

**BREATHE.**

There were few things that could make Kate Bishop want to punch an actual wall. Of those, there was one in particular that had her rolling her shoulders back, arrow already nocked into place as she closed her eyes for a brief moment.   


**THE WIRE TENSES.**

Clint Futzing Barton was an ass. Complete and utter futzing ass. She hadn’t even been back from LA for that long, maybe two weeks? And he was already running out and getting into god knows what kind of trouble. WITHOUT HER. How was that even fair? Kate had come back just to save his whiny ass and now… 

**BACK MUSCLES TIGHTEN AND LOCK.**

That wasn’t the only reason for impromptu target practice, though _‘Clint being an ass is always a good reason to shoot at things’,_ she thought to herself, opening her eyes again and sizing up the outline hanging off the wall. Non-lethal. Avenger’s don’t kill, right? Clint told her he coined that phrase once, but Steve Rogers, futzing Captain America had later informed her that it was Janet Van Dyne. 

Liar. There was another she could add to the long list of adjectives used to describe Clint. 

Taking in another breath, she could feel the progression of time practically slow down as she refocused. The first time it had been described to her, Kate had just rolled her eyes. It was an idiotic idea. With practice though, she had began to experience the utter thrill that ran through her as she steadied her bow and took aim. Time really did seem to slow down. If she listened closely, she could hear the tick of the clock on the mantle, Lucky’s slow breath from where he slept on the couch. 

**EXHALE.**

Her eyes opened slowly, lips barely parted as the air escaped her and her heartbeat echoed in her ears. Focus.   


**> >\------------>>**

**”Sloppy.”** Clint had scoffed, not bothering to look up at her until she had chucked an empty soda can at him. **”Ow? What the hell?.”**

**”What do you mean by ‘sloppy’?”** Her glare didn’t have any impact on him anymore and he didn’t even bother trying to explain himself, taking his coffee with him to his bedroom. Kate watched him go, bow dangling from her fingers before she clutched her hand in a fist and moved to rip the arrow out of the wall in frustration.  
  


**> >\------------>>**

She was out of practice. That was what he had been trying to point out, in the most Clint Barton of ways.   
  


**RELAX YOUR HAND.**

Watching the arrow fly with satisfaction, her lip quirked up in a small smile as she let her arm relax and the curve of the bow rest at her side. Quiver hanging off her hip, she walked towards the wall and let out a little groan as she looked at the black paper. Perfectly though the ten ring. Lucky lift his head and she glanced back at him with her nose wrinkled up. 

**”I hate when he’s right…”** She muttered, as if she needed to explain herself to the golden mutt. He seemed to accept this and laid back down, head resting on his crossed paws. Pulling the arrow free, she slipped it back into the quiver and walked backwards towards her starting point. Oh well. The practice would be good for her. 

**> >\------------>>**

Several different targets and lots of cursing later, Kate felt that she’d made reasonable progress. Enough to deserve a coffee break. Laying the bow across the counter, she reached for her phone and her eyes widened. 10 missed calls and 4 new messages? 

_Oh futz._

She’d really been focused apparently. Unlocking the device, she grit her teeth as she noticed who every missed item was from. 

||KatieKate, pick up your phone.||  


||What are you even doing? I need to talk to you.||  


||I have something coming to the apartment today. Can you be there to get it? Don’t drink all the coffee.||  


||Make sure to feed Lucky, girlie-girl.||  
  


If she didn’t already have plans to kill him, they would have quickly been made after that. Rolling her eyes, she fixed up her cup of coffee, sickly sweet and more cream than actual coffee, before moving back over the mocked up shooting range Clint had set up in the living room. Steam poured off of the cup, pursing her lips to blow on the hot liquid and crossing her arms over her chest. The texts were from a little over an hour ago, so hopefully whatever was being delivered would be there soon. It wasn’t that she had anything to do, but she hated that he just assumed she would be available to just hang around and wait for his package. 

Taking another sip from the coffee, she set it aside on the table in front of the couch and looked over the other items strewn there. More arrows, throwing knives, a few different guns, trick arrows, batons, her sword, even more arrows. All in all, just a vast assortment of weaponry for her to play with. Quiver still strapped to her leg, she pulled off the hooded sweatshirt she had pilfered from the older archer’s closet and tossed it aside. The worn purple t-shirt she had on was a favorite of hers, even if it was beginning to thin out in certain places. 

Throwing knives. Picking them up carefully, she made sure that Lucky was content on the couch before moving to hang up a new silhouette. When she’d first started working with Clint, she had balked at the idea of using human outlines for target practice. She had only ever used circular bulls eyes for individual practice. It felt callous to use something that, while still paper, was the depiction of a person. 

**_”Anything that comes at you isn’t gonna have circles painted on their chest, girlie. You have to be able to define where to shoot.”_**

Kate really did hate when Clint was right. Targets were great for practicing technique. Figuring out different ways to incapacitate a person using a weapon that cavemen invented was different. She backed up to her standing position and held on of the blades between her fingers. 

**BREATHE.**

With a flick of her wrist, the knife flew, sinking into the wall with a satisfying **THUNK.** Popping the next one up, she repeated the process, five knives sailing through the air with pinpoint accuracy. Head, shoulders, chest, groin. Lips twitching up in a smile, she hurried forward to hang another dark sheet of paper right next to the one now pinned to the wall. Lucky watched her move, head shifting back and forth like he was watching a tennis match as she bounded back to the kitchen, retrieving her bow from the counter. 

_‘I can do this. I can do this. Focus, Kate.’_ Drawing three arrows, she squared her shoulders and her body flowed through the process. **NOCK. EXHALE. TENSE. RELAX. FLY.**

As they released, she moved without pause, drawing two more arrows and letting them go just as quickly. 

Three down the middle, one on each side. An exact mirror of the throwing knives silhouette. Finally, it felt fluid again. The movements came autonomously, like breathing. 

Her smile grew as she reached for another arrow. Time for the impossible shot. The Robin Hood shot. She hadn’t tried in ages. It just felt right this time. Taking aim at the center arrow, she blinked and everything happened. 

**REL… KNOCK KNOCK.**

Startling, the arrow missed the mark, puncturing just to the left of its intended target and she cursed. Lucky looked up with a soft _‘boof.’_ and she rolled her eyes, dropping the bow onto the coffee table as she walked by. **”Down boy… You’re such a vicious attack dog...”** She muttered sarcastically, moving to the door and opening it without question. 

**”Do I have to sign for this package, because if so…”** Pausing, she looked up at the man standing in the hallway who was definitely not a UPS or FedEx delivery guy. Confusion crossed her features as she stood in the door, looking him over before recognition actually set in. Her eyes quickly jumped from the hat mostly obscuring his features to his covered arm before she met his gaze again. _‘Shit shit shit. Clint is such a futzing dead man.’_

**”You’re…”** Kate stopped herself for the millionth time it seemed, pretty certain that it was impolite to call him the Winter Soldier now. **”You’re Bucky Barnes, right? If you’re looking for Clint, you’ll have to wait a bit… He’s not even here. Um. But, he did ask me to let you in.”** Standing for a moment, she pulled from her reverie and shook her head, stepping back enough to actually let him into the apartment. 

**”Right, sorry. Come in.”**   


**Author's Note:**

> So I know this was a lot of exposition, but I'm getting to it! I promise. I put slow burn in the tags for a reason. Hopefully a new chapter will be up soon.


End file.
